


A Little Less Than Superhuman

by cellwright



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Sick Loid, Sickfic, Yor takes care of him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellwright/pseuds/cellwright
Summary: Twilight was, all things considered, basically superhuman. He could drink a barrel of brandy and not feel inebriated in the slightest, could whip up an entirely new face with a little bit of wax and foundation, and made conversation flowcharts for his friend to hit home with a date just because he had the time.And yet, the one thing Twilight could not fight was some germs in the air.
Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	A Little Less Than Superhuman

**Author's Note:**

> yes i have a cold yes im projecting

Twilight was, all things considered, basically superhuman. He could drink a barrel of brandy and not feel inebriated in the slightest, could whip up an entirely new face with a little bit of wax and foundation, and made conversation flowcharts for his friend to hit home with a date just because he had the time. 

And, yet, the one thing Twilight could not fight was some germs in the air. 

Somehow, Loid’s job as a “psychiatrist” did not put him away from the physically ill patients of the hospital. He wasn’t sure exactly who he caught a cold from, but it had to be a one-in-a-billionth strain if it put _Agent Twilight_ out of commission for a week. 

Loid lamented over the predicament in bed, shivering under a stack of blankets and not feeling any warmer when he tucked them under his chin. 

How pathetic he must have looked. It had been two days already, and his fever roared like no other.

He had been pre-exposed to every possible virus WISE had in their arsenal, and yet whatever had weaseled through his (supposedly) impeccable immune system had really been doing a number on him. To worsen the guilt of missing work when they were already so understaffed, Sylvia had grumbled when he informed her via encrypted phone call that he was terribly ill and wouldn’t be able to carry out missions until he got better.

Loid hadn’t felt this awful for a long, long time. He knew he hated it, but he forgot just how horrible it was to be cooped up under the sheets without a single know how of where he was, who he was, and why opening his eyes felt like he was receiving his day of reckoning from the heavens up above. Every pound in his head was a gong that left his entire body reverberating in its aftermath, though that very well could have been the shivers. 

God. Loid knew he had done some unforgivable things in his lifetime, but did he really deserve this? 

He was contemplating switching fake professions when a knock came to his door. The only response he could offer was a loud grunt, and soon Anya and Yor’s heads were peeking inside. 

“Papa!” Anya immediately called out, attempting to run inside before Yor caught her around the shoulders to stop her. 

She answered to Anya’s pout with a whisper, “Papa’s sick, Anya. You need to be a little quieter so his head doesn’t hurt.” 

Anya nodded in understanding, and chose instead to amble over to the blanket bundle that was her papa and poked her head over the side of the bed. 

Loid squinted as he turned his head to the side to peer at her. He wasn’t conscious enough to think about the possibility of spreading the cold to her until Yor moved forward to scoop her a little farther away from him. 

“How are you feeling, Loid?” Yor asked, quickly placing a hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature, and yanked it away just as fast. “Oh, you’re burning up. Do you feel any better?” 

All Loid could manage was a slight shake of his head, and that was enough of a tell on its own. 

“I guess I should have known that… But I can make you some soup!” 

Anya protested, “Don’t make him more sick!” 

Yor instantly deflated at the innocent implication, and Loid would have chuckled if his lungs didn’t feel like lead. Instead, he did the best he could to muster what energy he did have to weakly say, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you make, Yor.” 

Yor flushed at his words, and grabbed Anya’s hand so she wouldn’t get too close to Loid again. 

“W-Well, I’ll try my best. Maybe I should ask Millie for advice…” 

With that, Yor let Anya bid a grumbled goodbye to her papa and left with an apologetic look, like she was sorry she couldn’t miraculously pull the illness from Loid’s body. He did his best to smile at her in reassurance, but he was sure it looked like more of a grimace. 

Her smile grew a little wider regardless. 

———

Monday afternoon— Anya was at school, and Yor was at work as usual. She promised to come home as soon as she could so she could look over Loid, but Loid insisted he could take care of himself in the few hours that his "family" was gone. He was a grown man, after all. Even if this cold blurred his vision and made the rest of his body feel like he was dipped in concrete and left out to dry in the rain; Which was a long winded way to say that he still felt like complete and utter shit, and it didn’t look like it would be letting up any time soon. 

Yor was kind enough to leave him food and water on his nightstand to last him the day, even if the food was mostly packaged snacks so he wouldn’t be subjected to her cooking. Anya’s comments still struck Yor hard, it seemed. 

Nevertheless, Loud had some strength to open up a package of peanuts and pop one into his mouth, absentmindedly missing Anya now that he didn’t have work to distract him from wondering what she was up to. 

… But that was the sickness talking. Anya wasn’t really his daughter to worry about. 

And yet, he couldn’t help but think about what class she was currently in, if she was struggling with the lesson, or if she was making any progress in befriending the second Desmond son. 

Then his mind traveled over to Yor, and her gossipy coworkers. He hoped they weren't giving Yor much of an issue like he knew they could, even if she had been growing out of her shell lately... 

Loid needed something more substantial to eat, because it was evident that the lack of proper nutrients was getting to his brain. 

It took a bit of effort to push himself up, and to shove the pile of covers down to his legs so he wasn’t weighed down by them. Sitting up and looking out to his closed door only made the journey that he needed to take to get to the kitchen more daunting. 

He made his first attempt at standing up, which felt more valiant than it was. He pushed himself off the bed with weak arms, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate and he only fell back onto the sheets. He frowned and tried again, using the momentum from pushing forward to stand up. He finally succeeded, albeit it was on incredibly wobbly legs. 

Loid prevented another fall by holding onto the edge of the bed as he tried to balance. His vision swam with every steadying step he took, but he was sure he would feel better as soon as he got some food to last him the day. Whatever energy he _did_ have was spent trying not to stumble into the wall as he blindly shuffled towards the door. 

He couldn’t figure out why something as menial as walking zapped the energy out of him, and why it sent waves of fatigue to his brain. He felt dumb— Agent Twilight, barely able to walk because of some _cold._

The self-hatred from the fact was enough to fuel him for a few more footsteps, though. Out the hallway and into the main area of the apartment, all in the name of proving he wasn’t as useless as he felt, to an audience of absolutely no one. 

And, through the surge of nausea that weighed down his limbs, the spy completed his mission of getting to the kitchen. 

It was actually making food that would be a task, though. No years of training ever made him feel as awful as this, and that was after being put through weeks of potential “torture” training for a month in the case that he be kidnapped and hurt for information. 

No, his sinuses made him feel worse— So did the heartbeat that thumped in his temples, and the jelly that made up his legs. 

Loid would have to persevere. He held onto the counter as he pushed himself towards the fridge, instilled with as much courage as he did when pulling off a high stakes mission to find some eggs, and maybe something on the side, to eat healthy food in the name of getting better. Two and a half days of rest on its own didn’t seem to do that. 

Though, finally at the fridge, Loid wasn’t sure whether it was the speed at which he moved or another fit of nausea that made him lightheaded all over again. It sent him to kneel at the ground, gripping the counter with an arm over his head for the shred of stability he had left. 

How weak, he thought to himself. How weak he was to succumb to a couple of germs. 

So he pulled himself up again, and took another step towards the fridge before— 

“Loid?” 

And, poor Loid, couldn’t handle the sudden pound of his heart at the surprise of Yor, who he hadn’t even registered had come into the apartment until his body went slack, and the world turned dark. 

———

When he awoke next, Loid only registered two things— The incredibly soft pillow his head laid upon, and the fingers carding through his hair. 

If he were himself, he would have leapt out of the hold of whoever had trapped him, but Sick Loid only hummed further into the hand that glided so smoothly over his head and the lap that his head rested on. It was a comfort he, truthfully, hadn’t felt in a while. He would sacrifice his dignity for a minute longer of it, even if Normal Loid would throw a fit at him for it later. 

“Are you awake, Loid?” 

He had come to a bit more of his senses when he blinked his vision clear and was met with Yor’s face looking worriedly down on him. 

If he had any energy left in him he would have startled, but apparently a trip to the kitchen only allowed him enough to widen his eyes. 

“Sorry,” was the first thing he muttered after the initial surprise, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I—” 

“It’s fine,” Yor smiled. Her hand paused it’s ministrations over his hair and Loid made a sound at the back of his throat in protest, one he didn’t realize he made until it was too late. The sudden heat in his face could have been blamed on the cold, but the way he craned his head into Yor’s hand once she resumed could not. 

Yor continued with a breathy chuckle, “It’s the least I can do after you passed out like that. I should have called earlier, but I j-just wanted to check in on you during my lunch break. I brought some food as well, but… I’m not too sure I should leave you alone like this.” 

“No, it’s bad enough you have to look over me in the first place,” Loid mumbled in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have been so careless around patients. There’s no point in you having to take off of work to take care of me.”

“It’s not a problem, really.” 

Yor seemed solid in her decision, and Loid really did not have it in him to argue, as badly as he wanted to otherwise. He would endure this, just as he had countless other things. If enduring it meant trying his hardest not to think about his position, which… 

“How’d you get me all the way over here anyways?” 

Yor’s hands stilled for half a second. 

They were on the couch, far from the kitchen and far from where Loid assumed Yor could pull him. He was sprawled out over the rest of the cushions as well, quite improperly if he was being honest with himself. 

“I’m stronger than I look, Loid,” Yor murmured, “You’re as heavy as a bag of rocks, though.”

“Won’t—” Loid began, before interrupting himself with a yawn, “Won’t you… get sick… as well?” 

He recognized the tendrils of sleep pulling him back to its cave with how comfortable he was, with Yor’s gentle hands lulling him to sleep, and whatever stream of thoughts he had in his mind slowed to the pace of dripping molasses. Whatever Yor may have responded with was left a whisper, echoing far where Loid couldn't reach. 

Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, Twilight reminded him that falling asleep in front of others was dangerous. It was the second time he had done it during Operation Strix, and as much as he knew not to… 

… He was just too comfortable. And tired. So, incredibly tired. 

When Loid awoke again, it was still in Yor’s lap, except this time the bag of food she brought home was on the coffee table in front of them. She must have moved him to get it, but he was too passed out to stir. 

“Y’know, you’re a very still sleeper, even when you’re sick,” Yor said when he opened his eyes to gaze at her for the second time. 

“Am I?” he asked sleepily. 

But Loid already knew the answer— Like most things, it was the result of far too much spy training. 

Yor hummed, then nodded her head in the direction of the food. “I’m assuming you’re really hungry, if you want to eat?” 

Loid would have agreed, except the movement of his head towards the food served to remind him of just how… gross he felt. The dry sweat on his neck was only a part of it, but the rest of his clothes stuck to his body as a result of not changing for two days. 

“I think I should go wash up before I bother you any further,” Loid said, and used whatever energy he regained from sleeping to push himself up off of Yor’s lap before she continued to be subjected to what was probably his very greasy hair over her legs. He hadn’t showered for a few days already, he could only imagine— 

Yor stopped his spiral of thoughts with a hesitant, “Are you… sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I wouldn’t want you to pass out in there, or get hurt… I-I mean, it wouldn’t be a problem if I could just… Ah, you know… help? Run a bath, maybe...”

With every passing word that left Yor’s lips, she grew more and more red. Loid understood the gist of what she was implying, and while it didn’t lessen any of his own embarrassment...

It made sense. If he passed out from surprise, who knew what over exerting himself in the shower could do… and if he got injured, it would take longer to recover and return to his mission… and Yor was offering, and he hated that he knew he was too weak to refuse, and that he really, really had no other option. 

“That sounds perfect,” Loid murmured with confidence he didn't have, and Yor brightened up when she realized he wasn’t outright refusing her. 

After she laid him back down on the couch and the distant sound of a bath running swam through Loid’s jumbled mind, he didn’t have it in him to fluster over what being in a tub, naked, in front of his fake wife, meant— Until he was in the bathroom, barely supporting himself with a hand on the counter and staring down a bath with enough bubbles to create a thick layer of it over the water. He had already managed to pull his shirt off when it really hit him that he was going to get into a bath like, _really_ , a child and have to be assisted in cleaning himself, like, again, a child. 

Except he was a grown ass man, and the woman cleaning him was not at all his mother, or anyone who had any true right to seeing him unclothed in any sort of manner. 

Loid damned himself for even getting into this predicament. Never had an operation rendered him so clumsy, and yet here Twilight was. Near naked, glaring down a bathtub like it had killed his cat. 

So he stripped completely and stepped into the warm water, trying not to redden any further when he called out to Yor to tell her that he was… as decent as he could be in that situation. With his back to the door, he hoped that not having to look her in the eye when she tentatively entered the bathroom a moment later would preserve a shred of his pride. 

Spoiler warning: it did not work. 

Loid sulked a little further into the water. 

“You alright?” Yor asked, though the slight tremor in her voice gave away her own nerves. 

Loid could only respond, “I’m sorry for making you do this, I… I know I’m a little useless right now. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I ca—” 

Yor’s quiet laugh cut him off, and Loid irrationally thought that she was mocking his misery before she said, “After all you’ve done for me, and you’re worried about having to be taken care of when you’re sick?” 

“...Yes. I-It’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think?” 

Their voices echoed around the space of the tub and the initial awkwardness had cracked. Loid listened as stool legs scraped over tile and Yor was able to sit on the side of the tub comfortably. In the side of his vision he watched her hand reach out to grab a bar of soap on the shower shelf, which she put in a wet washcloth after dipping it into the water. 

“Not really, no. When Yuri got sick when we were kids, I had to look over him day and night. If anything, you’re a little less of a handful when it comes to being sick.” 

Loid was ready to respond, but the glide of the washcloth sliding over the stiff muscles of his upper back stopped him. All he could do was sigh in satisfaction— It was one thing for the steam rising from the water to begin clearing up his sinuses and thus his head, but another for the grime of being in bed for a couple of days to be slowly washed off him. 

“Is the water too hot?” 

“Not at all.” 

Yor continued the steady movement of the cloth over his back, mostly working the soreness of his muscles out with gentle circles over his skin. His sighs of relief must have been loud enough for her to continue without much other word, except to tell him to move his arms one way or another to reach everywhere she could. 

When she deemed her work done, she handed Loid the washcloth with a word to wash his front while she moved onto his hair. 

“You don’t have to go as far as to do that too…” Loid weakly protested. However, even he could hear in his voice how he didn’t exactly mind. 

Yor easily responded, “Nonsense,” before reaching over to grab the bottle of shampoo and squirting some into her hand. A moment later she was lightly touching her palm to Loid’s head, lathering the shampoo over his hair until it was spread over most of it and beginning to work it through his roots. 

“I hate being rendered so useless,” Loid murmured without really thinking about what he was saying. 

Yet, it was true. He hated himself, mostly, for getting into this position. For allowing himself to become soft enough to let his guard down so easily, like he hadn’t endured years of training to prevent exactly that. 

But Yor’s fingers were so gentle, and her manner so caring, and Loid was reminded that at the end of the day, he was just a man. 

“I can’t believe you could ever think that you’re useless,” Yor said, and even then Loid could hear the quirk of her lips in her voice. “I can’t cook, and I can barely help Anya with her studying, but you put up with me. Do you think I’m useless?” 

Loid shook his head immediately, slowly as to not worsen his headache. 

Yor continued to massage the shampoo into his hair, running her fingers through his locks much like she did previously. “If anything, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick earlier. You overwork yourself far too much, and usually people get sick when they don’t get enough rest...” 

If Loid could have told her that he bore far more sleepless nights and long work days than she had seen from him already, he would have. Instead, he muttered, “I’m afraid I’m a handful when I get sick, I just regret having to drag you into it.” 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for everything you’ve done for me. Now tilt your head back, let me wash out this shampoo.” 

Loid absentmindedly mourned the loss of Yor’s fingers when he tipped his head back for her to scoop some water in her hand and wash out the bubbled shampoo she worked through. He kept his eyes closed to resist the urge to look at her; He was already addled enough. 

The smooth flow of water tracing down the back of his head and between his shoulder blades would have been enough to put him to sleep again, but Yor tapped his shoulder every time he was close to nodding off. 

“You alright there?” She asked. 

Loid didn’t realize she was teasing him until she giggled at the slow nod he gave at the question. 

“Sometimes you act so childish, you know?” Yor murmured as she moved onto running conditioner through his hair. He didn’t exactly need it— his hair was plenty soft on its own— but he appreciated the extra bit of care. “Winning stuffed penguins, all that. Even like this, you’re not as serious as you try to be…” 

Loid was too lost in the bliss of the strawberry scent of the conditioner that wafted with the warm air around him. He hadn’t completely registered that it was Yor’s conditioner that she was using, but the scent combined with her careful hands granted him the closest thing to heaven he would ever get to with the life he’s lived. Just the euphoria of it all was more than he deserved, the thought came to him through muddled waves. 

“Mhmm…” 

Yor giggled again, and nudged him in the shoulder. “Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” 

Loid wasn’t too sure if he could follow the command, but sleepily nodded and forced his eyes into a squint so they wouldn’t accidentally close. It wasn’t until Yor tapped him again that he realized she had washed the conditioner out. 

“Can you get out on your own?” 

As badly as Loid wanted to spend the entire day in the warm water with Yor’s hands in his hair, a glance down told him the bubbles that had previously coated the water had begun to thin out, and he knew it was a matter of time before he would become… less decent. 

“...I’ll be fine, thank you.” 

Yor got up and put the stool away, then left the bathroom with the click of the door behind her. 

Loid only slightly mourned the loss. 

But, with a stretch of his arms over his head before he pulled himself out of the tub, he could appreciate the care more than when he was distracted with it. His muscles were far less sore than they were when he was lying down day and night, and his sinuses had slightly cleared up with the warm water that had long lost its steam. 

Even then, it took a little effort to change into the fresh clothes that Yor had brought in earlier. He tried not to think about her looking through his clothes drawers to find his more comfortable pair of cotton pants and a t-shirt, but it had to be the sickness making him think embarrassing things. 

Loid toweled off his hair and changed, then left the bathroom feeling considerably better. Not close to not-sick, no sir, but a cut above utter shit— so. 

“I’m gonna clean your sheets, go eat the food on the table!” came Yor’s voice from his bedroom. 

“You don’t have t—” 

“Nope!” Yor said, popping her head out his doorway with his sheets and comforter piled in her arms, so only her eyes peeked out over it. “I’m good at cleaning, so I’m going to clean. Go eat.” 

Loid listened to her like he might have a scolding mother, though it wasn’t with a huff he’d imagine Anya might have given, and turned to shuffle into the living room and grab the food. He sat on the couch and peered into the bag— as promised, Yor had gotten him soup, even if she wasn’t the one to make it. Beside that plastic container was two more, presumably with other food as well. 

Caught slightly off guard, Loid could only stutter out a, “Th-Thank you for the meal,” to no one.

———

It must have been the soup, or Yor’s fingers must have worked some magic into him, but Loid was completely free from the hold of the cold a couple of days later. A little more rest did him some good, it seemed.

And it helped that Yor was always home on time to check in on him, but Loid pretended like it wasn’t. 

Anya was happier that he was better more than he was— as soon as she was given the okay, she was leaping towards him just to wrap around his legs in the best hug she could offer. Admittedly, Loid missed it as well. He picked her up and let her stick around him for a day, to make up for all the time missed. 

Loid was making breakfast a couple of mornings after, silently thankful that he had his energy back to do so. Yor was usually up at that time, maybe he’d have to… 

As if on cue, a quiet groan came from right behind him. 

He had a feeling he knew what it was, but before he could whip around and see the perpetrator, the weight of a forehead settled between his shoulder blades. 

“Yor?” 

A sniffle, then a nasally, “Yeah?” 

“Are you sick?” 

Yor sniffled again, but paused for a moment. “...Maybe.” 

Loid had quite the week ahead of him. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i love these two so much, oh my god. comments & kudos appreciated ^.^
> 
> follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cellwright) because i need more spy x family friends


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